


What If?

by captainamergirl



Category: General Hospital, One Life to Live
Genre: Crossover, Drabble Collection, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-11 08:51:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12931809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainamergirl/pseuds/captainamergirl
Summary: What if Sam McCall met Cristian Vega? What if they were meant to be?





	What If?

****WHAT IF?  
  
"It's raining really hard out there. I couldn't even see the road," she explained as she sat bundled up in his coat at the counter of the Buenos Dias Cafe. "Thanks for letting me stay here till the storm passes."  
  
He looked at her across the counter and just nodded. It had been after eleven p.m., he'd been doing inventory for his mom Carlotta who been out sick all week due to having a bad case of the flu, when suddenly the door to the cafe was thrown open and a petite, soggy brunette clamored into the place. He'd instinctively wanted to kick her out - he was having one of those days - but he had realized if Carlotta ever heard about it somehow, she would never let him hear the end of it. His Mami was nothing if not gracious and hospitable and she expected her sons to be the same even if they often failed in that department.  
  
He'd offered her a seat and then had gone to retrieve his woolen coat in the backroom. Half of him expected the cash register to be gone when he returned but it was still there when he came back, as was she, just sitting their shivering, muttering about it being July and summer and why the hell was it raining like cats and dogs here anyway? He'd passed her his coat, said, "Its Pennsylvania, it's not unheard of" and then decided to wipe down the counters instead of returning to the backroom.  
  
He felt her watching him curiously and he looked back at her under his thick eyelashes. "What brings you to Llanview?" he asked.  
  
"A case," she answered in a soft voice. "I'm a P.I."  
  
Cristian nodded. "Well you'd never get bored in this town. It's crawling with all kinds of bizarre and crazy people."  
  
She smiled a little. "Should I be worried you're one of those 'bizarre and crazy people'?"  
  
He sighed. "Have I attacked you?"  
  
"No," she admitted. He noticed her keep shivering even in his coat - like it was a chill that came from the inside. He could relate. Just this morning, he'd been a pallbearer at Gigi Morasco's funeral, witnessing the tragic effects of lives ended before his very eyes. It had left him feeling raw and angry and bitter. He was so out of it lately he couldn't even paint and he had promised a painting to Lindsay Rappaport by the end of next week. He was going to lose out on a big sale if he didn't think of something quickly. Maybe he could paint the bowl of fruit on the counter ... No that was too predictable, too easy, not worth a damn thing. You could buy pictures of oranges at every Wal-mart across the U.S. He needed something to really strike his muse...  
  
And that's when he saw her, really saw her. She was a beautiful woman - that was obvious - but she looked so raw, so human to him sitting there with her dark hair plastered to either side of her face. He had an idea then.  
  
He immediately raced out of the room and went to the back office once again, this time grabbing a pen and pad of paper. He could sketch her now and copy it onto a canvas later. It would be a painting that was as mysterious and elusive as she seemed to be.  
  
He walked back through the kitchen and thought he should probably put on a pot of coffee for her before she did freeze to death. Once it was percolating, he walked out into the dining area and asked her, "Will you pose for me?"  
  
She looked up at him in shock. "Excuse me?!"  
  
He couldn't help but smile at her flummoxed and haughty reaction. "I don't mean without clothing. Just as you are ... sitting at the counter with my coat on."  
  
"Seriously?"  
  
"Yeah. I'm an artist - or I like to think I am."  
  
She seemed to toss the idea around for a bit and then finally nodded. "Yeah, go ahead. I've been a lot of things but never someone's muse."  
  
"I wouldn't be surprised if that not true," he said and immediately began to sketch her. "Okay, hold still, just do what you were doing, don't let yourself stiffen up..."  
  
She smiled. "What are you going to call this? 'Rain-drenched, crazy-looking woman sitting in a diner'?"  
  
He shrugged. "That could work."


End file.
